HTLJ: Reunion
by Arianna18
Summary: Iolaus encounters one of his sisters, who he hasn't seen since running away from home years before.


Dedication: This story was suggested by Emily. She asked that I write a tale about how Iolaus encounters one of his sisters, who he hasn't seen since running away from home years before. I was honoured to be asked and hope this story fulfills her hopes. In this story, I've referred to my 'Sins of the Father' and 'Lost…and Found', stories which explored some of the circumstances of Iolaus' childhood and Hercules' knowledge of what his friend had endured.

* * *

The raiders swept into the village, hooves thundering, not caring what or who might be trampled. Men, ordinary men, unarmed, tried to resist, using whatever came to hand…crates, barrels, pieces of wood, a knife, but were cut down mercilessly by the superior swords and axes carried by the marauding forces. Women screamed, and ran to hustle their children into safe shelter…though there was nowhere safe from these villains. Gold and silver was taken from the tavern, the inn, the blacksmith and the leatherworker's shop…and a threat was made to the magistrate that they'd be back unless 'taxes' were paid to the new lord of the area, to guarantee the safety of the village.

"I am Seros…and this village is now mine!" the tall, bearded warrior called out, waving his bloody sword in the air. "I will be back."

Wheeling his mount, he tore back out of the village, his men racing behind him, leaving only dust and blood in their wake.

Furious, afraid, the blacksmith holding an arm that had been slashed by a sword, stomped over to the magistrate. "This has to be stopped!" he exclaimed.

"Aye," replied his old friend. The middle-aged magistrate stared around at the ruin of what had been a peaceful village. "I wonder if the King knows someone else, this Seros, now claims us as his own." Turning to head back to his home, the man was already composing the message in his mind. In less than an hour, he'd sent a messenger off to Corinth.

* * *

As soon as he saw them walk in, Iphicles stood up and away from his throne, waving to his attendants to end the audience for the day. There were a few low mutterings of displeasure from those who had waited since dawn to tell their tale of woe to the King, with the hope of obtaining justice as they defined it. But, most were philosophical. There would be another audience on the morrow.

Iphicles strode across the hall to greet his brother and his companion. "Hercules, Iolaus, thank you for coming…come to my quarters while I explain why I sent for you," Iphicles greeted them, smiling a little in welcome, but his eyes were preoccupied, worried. Frowning a little, wondering what was going on, the heroes followed the King through the wide, well lit halls of the palace, up a broad staircase and into the family quarters. The servants, having anticipated the need, had already lit the fire in the grate and left a fine porcelain jug of decanted red wine, some cheese, bread and fruit.

Iphicles poured generous goblets of wine and waved them to the comfortable chairs as he handed out the libations. Iolaus wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. It was hot this time of year and they'd been pushing hard to get here in response to Iph's call. He accepted the goblet gratefully and took a healthy swig, making Iph wince a little. This was good wine, meant to be sipped and enjoyed. But, the King shook his head, having more important matters on his mind as he absentmindedly handed a goblet to Hercules and took one for himself.

"What's this all about, Iphicles?" Hercules asked as he dropped into one of the chairs.

Iolaus rifled amongst the cheeses, lifted a handful of small morsels and turned to listen to Iphicles' response as he popped the well-aged cheddar into his mouth.

Choosing to stand by the fire, Iphicles turned to face them. "What do you know about a warlord named Seros, who's been raiding all along the isthmus from here almost to Pireaes for the last month or so?"

Frowning, Hercules shrugged a little as he glanced at Iolaus and then replied, "A little, not much…we heard on the way here that the raids are coming more often. It's said he's got a small army of at least one hundred and fifty men. Apparently," he continued, again looking across at Iolaus, then back to his brother, "they don't care who they kill during the raids."

"Yeah, and they say he vanishes like a ghost into the hills," Iolaus added, who'd been reaching for a small handful of grapes, but then left them at the thought of the victims. Turning away from the food, he sat in the chair across from his partner. "Do you need us to track him?"

"Well…I think we have an idea where he disappears to," Iphicles replied, "but I need it confirmed. I sent scouts to track their trail from the last village they raided, though the tracks vanished over a stretch of shale and rock. There's not much out there but forest and mountain caves. They might be holed up in some caves, but there's also a small village not far from where the tracks disappeared, deep in the mountains, remote, one narrow trail in…up against the cliffs…easy to defend."

"And you want us to check it out?" Iolaus interjected, looking over at Hercules. "Why not just send some of your own men?"

"Something about all this doesn't feel right to me," Iphicles mused in response, frowning. "There's no obvious trail from where the tracks disappear to the village and the land there is rugged. And I'm not sure we'd have more than one chance given that they know those mountains better than we do." He sighed, then continued, "If I do go in with a full force, I want to know what I'm up against…and I want to know, without any doubt, that that village is the centre of Seros' operations."

The demigod looked thoughtful. "A village…not a fortress? Doesn't that mean families…ordinary people?"

"Maybe," Iphicles allowed. "Warlords and their men like their comforts as much as anyone else. There's no where else in those hills…it needs to be checked. If you agree, I'll send some of my soldiers with you, for back up…and for you to send a messenger back here for reinforcements, if I'm right."

"You'd make war on a village of women and children?" Iolaus protested, not quite believing what he'd just heard. "Look…just let us get a look, size the place up. Maybe we can do this the easy way. If this Seros does hole up there, we can maybe take him coming or going."

Iphicles raised a hand as he looked from Iolaus to his brother. "I don't make war on women and children… you know that," he said sharply, offended. "But, what if those animals are holding the people in the village hostage? I need to know if we have the right place, then if so, we'll decide what to do next…an ambush, as you suggest, is likely the best option."

Mollified, Iolaus nodded as he took another swig of the good wine. "Well…that's alright then. Who knows, if they are there, maybe we can settle it ourselves."

Iphicles stiffened at that, not wanting to put them into more danger than they could reasonably handle…monsters were one thing, a small army something else. "Don't even think about it! Let me be very clear…this Seros and his bunch are ruthless killers. If they are there, don't try to take them on your own…there are too many of them."

Iolaus shot a questioning look at his partner, and Hercules nodded after a moment, accepting the mission.

"When will your men be ready to leave?" Hercules asked, standing and setting his untouched goblet down on a side table.

"Now," his brother replied shortly, wanting this matter of Seros resolved as quickly as possible. Relieved that they had agreed to be his eyes in the mountains, he set down his own goblet and turned to lead the way back down to the soldier's quarters in the back, near the royal stables.

In less than an hour, the small party of ten soldiers, dressed as hunters, and two heroes were heading north.

Iphicles watched them go, chewing on his lip as his eyes narrowed. They were his people who were being slaughtered by the raiders…and he meant to see Seros stopped.

* * *

They camped that night in the hills near the sea, and then their guide, one of the men Iphicles had assigned to them, led off the next morning just after dawn, heading up into the hills toward the higher cliffs in the west. They climbed steadily through the forest, avoiding the narrow trail that was used by the villagers on their way in and out of their mountain community. Hercules and Iolaus paid close attention to the country they were passing through. Though the heroes had traveled along the isthmus countless times, they'd seldom had cause to wander its remote interior and didn't know it well.

The soldiers moved silently, keeping a wary watch for sentries, but the forest seemed empty of any threat. Still, it didn't hurt to be careful.

Iolaus had been watching for sign as they traveled, and he pointed out evidence of large hunting parties. Looking around, he muttered, "You wouldn't think there'd be so many to feed out here in the middle of nowhere."

"Looks like Iphicles might just be right," Hercules agreed, also scanning the shadows of the deep wood.

"Yeah…" sighed Iolaus. They'd taken on warlords and their hordes plenty of times, but never before in circumstances like these. Was the village hostage? Or was it the new warlord's home base…not unheard perhaps, but odd, if it was. Most men who lived as mercenary warriors following warlords didn't have homes, and if they did, they kept their families far away from the violence. Who were these guys? Where had they come from?

"You know, if we all wander into that village, we'll be a little obvious, don't you think?" Iolaus observed quietly to his friend, as he glanced at the men who moved through the woods on either side of them. "This lot might be dressed as hunters, but they practically scream professional soldiers. Too disciplined by half."

Hercules couldn't help smile a little at the description as he looked down at his partner. 'Disciplined' was not something anyone could accuse his partner of being, not in any traditional sense anyway. But, his gaze took in the soldiers and he nodded. Iolaus was right. Too clean, for a start. Too well clothed. They'd never be mistaken for hunters or mercenaries either for that matter. "So?" he mused, casting a bemused glance at his best friend, waiting to see what Iolaus had in mind.

"So…I think I should go on ahead, check it out," Iolaus suggested nonchalantly.

Looking ahead through the trees, Hercules replied, "We could do that…"

"I said, 'I', Herc…you're even more 'noticeable' than they are," his buddy cut in, continuing to march through the undergrowth.

Reaching out a hand, Hercules gripped Iolaus' shoulder to slow him down, turn him around. "I'm not sure that's a great idea," he countered.

"Why not?" Iolaus challenged. "Look…what's the big deal? I mosey on in, have an ale at the tavern, chat up the locals and see who's hanging around, if anyone. It's not like we can pretend to be passing through…the road in doesn't go anywhere."

"And, your reason for climbing this mountain to visit their tavern is…?" Hercules continued.

His partner shrugged as he looked around the forest. "I could be asking directions, seeing if anyone knows of work hereabouts for a warrior down on his luck," he replied, cocking an impish look up at his friend, grinning.

Hercules took a breath, looking up and away. "I don't like you going in alone. There're too many of them if things go bad," he replied quietly.

"I'm hurt, Hercules…you don't think I can handle more'n a hundred guys?" Iolaus protested, looking and sounding wounded, but there was a hint of laughter in his eyes.

"Oh, a hundred…fine…but almost two hundred? Now, that's a stretch, even for you," Hercules grinned back, unable to resist the teasing look.

"You're just worried I'll have all the fun," Iolaus chided, but then continued. "I'll be quick. Look…they'd recognize you for sure, but nobody ever notices me, you know that. And, you know I'm right about this."

"Yeah," Hercules sighed, regretfully having to agree with his partner about Iolaus' apparent invisibility. While he didn't particularly like his friend's idea, he also knew Iolaus could handle himself in tricky situations. He couldn't explain the disquiet he felt…there was no real reason for it. Finally, he nodded, as he replied, "Fine…but nothing fancy, alright? In and out."

"Piece of cake," Iolaus snickered, again moving ahead, taking point as he continued to study the signs of other traffic through this remote forest, keeping watch in case they weren't the only 'hunters' in the area. It was about an hour later when he held up a hand for silence, then pointed to the east. At first, the others didn't notice anything, but then their eyes, too, caught movement.

Circling around, silent, the soldiers and the heroes moved to intercept the stranger. As they got closer, they could see he was tall, roughly garbed in leather, unshaven. He carried a bow and had bagged a brace of pheasant…and seemed now to be headed back to the village. Moving in, the searchers surrounded him, taking him by surprise. He went for the knife in his belt, dropping the game, ready to fight…his stance wary and ready.

"Who're you?" he demanded, his eyes narrowed. This was his forest, his mountain and they were the interlopers.

"Hunters," the captain called back, holding up his own bow to reinforce his claim.

"Right," their quarry snorted, not believing it for a minute.

"Drop the knife," the soldier called back, his words backed by an archer who'd taken a bead on the man's heart.

Anger flaring in his eyes, the stranger stared back for a long moment, then cursed, throwing the blade to the ground, standing now defenceless in their midst.

"What's your name?" Hercules asked, studying the man, noting the scars now healed on his face and right arm. The guy was a warrior, or had been. Pheasant didn't leave those kinds of wounds.

"What's it to you?" their prisoner shot back, belligerent for all that they outnumbered him.

Shrugging, giving the man a half smile, Hercules encouraged, "Look, this doesn't have to be difficult. We're…uh…looking for someone. Heard there's a village near here and wondered if we might find him there."

The man again studied the 'hunters' that surrounded him, and shook his head. It had only been a matter of time before they'd attracted official notice, before the King of Corinth took action against them. But, there weren't enough here…they were just fishing, and he didn't plan to give them any more information than they currently had. "I'm from the village…I might know the guy you're looking for. Could save you some time if he's not there. What's your friend's name?" he asked, trying for a more helpful manner, though it didn't sit well with his natural surliness.

"Seros," Hercules replied, watching.

Their prisoner smiled a little and shook his head. "Heard of him…been making trouble down below. But, don't know nothin' about him. You're wasting your time," he replied, looking Hercules dead in the eye.

The demigod nodded thoughtfully as he turned to gaze at Iolaus, one brow quirked in inquiry.

"Liar," Iolaus replied, shaking his head sorrowfully, 'tchtching' softly as he regarded the stranger. "That sincere, straight forward look is always a giveaway…doesn't come natural to you, does it?" he continued as he turned back to Hercules, drawing a glare of hate from their prisoner. "Knows more'n he's letting on."

"Uh huh," Hercules agreed, turning to the captain. "I guess we'd better hold onto him for now." At a nod from their leader, soldiers moved in to tie the stranger's hands behind his back.

Undaunted, the 'villager' smirked at them as he drawled, "You'd be best just to head right back out of these mountains…"

"Maybe," the demigod allowed. "But I think we'll check out the village first. If Seros isn't there, well, we'll apologize for detaining you and be on our way."

"From what I've heard of Seros," their prisoner replied, "if he's there, and I'm not saying he is, mind you…none of you will get out of the village alive. Think about that."

Hercules turned to regard Iolaus, who rolled his eyes at the man's bravado and waved away the shadow of concern he could read in his best friend's eyes.

One of the soldiers picked up the stranger's knife, bow and quiver, as well as the brace of pheasant. At the least, they had found their dinner. And, they'd likely found the warlord. Now they only needed to know if the villagers were hostages, or not. Silently, they continued on through the forest.

* * *

When they came to the narrow, rutted track up into the village, they paused within the shadows of the forest. Hercules laid a hand briefly on Iolaus' shoulder, but he didn't say anything. Iolaus just grinned and winked up at him, then strode out from the shelter, onto the track and on up to the village about a quarter of a mile away. Hercules took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he watched his buddy disappear around a rocky bend, then turned back, motioning the others to move back deeper into the cover of the woods.

Iolaus chose a pace halfway between an amble and a stride, moving steadily, but not appearing to be in any particular hurry, as he entered the village. The lane was little more than a rocky track between rough buildings, the foundations joined stone topped by sturdy wooden walls and pitched roofs, against the snow that came at these heights. Though a village wouldn't have a wall or gate for defence, this narrow entrance could easily be blocked off, a few holding back a much larger force. The village was almost tucked in under a massive cliff that bulged over it, leaving much of the settlement in cool shadow except in early morning when the sun's rays slanted in. And, on the valley side of the settlement, the land dropped steeply away. It could be climbed, but the task would be arduous, and leave the climbers vulnerable to attack from above. It might only be a simple, ordinary village…or it might be a great natural fortress.

The track wound past two more sturdy buildings, then broadened into a more recognizable lane, which in turn opened into a small square at its far end. The village looked normal enough, except for what resembled two whipping posts in the centre of the square…not the usual village ornament. There was a smith, and Iolaus could smell the leatherworker's shed though he didn't see it…must be farther back under the rim of the cliff. There were outbuildings for goats and sheep…and he saw more horses than he would have thought a village like this could afford. 'Funny,' he thought to himself, 'I don't remember seeing that many hoof prints on the trail up into the village…'

Children scampered in the lane and between the houses, women hung out laundry to dry. They all looked at him curiously, which was only to be expected. They wouldn't see many strangers here. He nodded and smiled as he passed by, but kept going. Village men could be offended by newcomers who seemed too charming by half with their women. He could smell the scent of baked bread and stews or soups as he passed the houses, and that reminded him that he really was hungry.

Carrying on, he wondered where the men were, but as he came closer to the centre of the village, and spotted the tavern, he saw a number of strong, tough-looking men loitering on benches outside, catching the sun before it slipped past its zenith and was hidden by the cliffs that loomed above. 'Well, you'd have to be tough to survive in these mountains,' he thought, not yet willing to assume they were all bandits.

As he approached the tavern, made obvious by the hand-painted sign above the door, one of the men stood and nodded, not exactly friendly, but not threatening either. "You're not from around here…what brings you up this way?"

Iolaus paused and looked up at the tall man standing on the wooden porch of the establishment, a step above the stony ground. "Oh, just wandering really," Iolaus replied with a shrug, hooking his thumbs in his belt. "I saw the track down below and heard there was village up here…wondered if I might find some work."

"Not much work here," the man replied, his face giving nothing away.

"Yeah, well…couldn't hurt to try," Iolaus replied with another shrug, looking around. "I thought I'd have an ale and something to eat before I headed out again…easier than catching a rabbit and building a fire in the forest."

The stranger had been gazing at him with cool appraisal, noting the sword and Iolaus' air of fitness. The long climb up to the village hadn't seemed to wind him. He seemed to be alone…one little guy wasn't any kind of threat. And, he looked scruffy. His story of looking for work could be true, though it was a long way to come on a hope. There were much more accessible villages below along the main road that crossed the isthmus. Reserving judgment, the tall man stepped aside, allowing Iolaus to move forward, past him into the tavern.

It was dark inside, with only a couple of small windows letting in light, and a fire in the hearth. There were torches in brackets spaced along the wall and behind the bar. It wasn't large, only about ten tables, all of them occupied, again by capable looking men, dressed plainly, but in leather not wool. Leather was favoured by warriors, wool or cotton by peasants. Moving to the bar, knowing all the eyes of the customers were on him and conscious that the low hum of talk had died away when he'd entered, Iolaus ordered an ale from the tavern keeper, and asked what might be available to eat.

The taverner, a man on the far side of middle age, filled a chipped clay mug from a barrel of ale as he replied succinctly, "Lamb stew and bread."

"Sounds perfect," Iolaus replied with an engaging grin as he fished in his belt for his money pouch and drew out a few coins. The host of the establishment filled a clay bowl with a ladle full of savoury stew from the blackened pot hanging over the fire, and cut a couple of slices of bread from a thick loaf. He laid the food on the bar in front of his customer, along with a horn spoon, and asked pleasantly enough. "What brings you to our fine village, lad?"

"Thanks," Iolaus murmured as he pulled the bowl closer and picked up the spoon, then continued as he looked across the bar with candid blue eyes, "I was hoping to find work."

"Work, is it?" the man replied, wiping his hands on the filthy apron he wore around his waist. "What kind of work were you hoping to find so far from the main road and the villages below?"

Digging into the stew, and nodding his pleasure at the hearty flavour, Iolaus swallowed and replied before he took a bite of bread, "I'm pretty handy with a blacksmith's hammer and, well, I'd heard there might be mercenaries about. I'm a warrior and could either help defend the village or join up, depending on what the villagers might prefer."

"Who told you there might be mercenaries in the village?" demanded one of the men from a table behind him.

Iolaus turned, his eyes seeking the speaker, but none admitted to the question as all waited for his answer. "Nobody told me…but, there have been raids in the villages below and the invaders disappear into the mountains. Seemed reasonable to see if the village needed a warrior's strong arm and sword. Not many wars going on right now, not much work of that sort available to a man who'd rather fight than farm."

"You any good with that sword?" the same voice asked again. He was sitting at a nearby table with three others, broadshouldered, maybe thirty or thirty-five years old, long dark hair tied back, black beard and mustache trimmed not wild. The hand curled around a mug was strong, scarred by little nicks…the kind of scars the tip of a sword might make, or a knife.

"I can hold my own," Iolaus replied, taking another bite of the stew he held in his hand as he leaned back against the bar, for all the world looking relaxed as if just having a friendly chat. "I'm pretty good with a bow, too…and I can ride."

"What action have you seen?" his inquisitor continued, as he raised his mug to sip at his ale, eyes narrowed over the rim of the mug.

"Oh, here and there. Troy. With Mycenae against Argos, Thebes against Athens, Greeks against Persians, like that," Iolaus replied casually, reaching behind himself to pick up a slice of bread and taking a bite. It didn't go unnoticed that he'd always been on the winning side. But, then, he was still alive so it wasn't all that surprising, either.

"What's your name?" the fellow asked, standing to come to the bar for a refill of his mug.

But, before Iolaus could answer, a woman entered the bar, squinting a little in the sudden dimness from the brightness outside as she scanned the room, her eyes coming to rest on him. Her face was cold, a little pinched and pale. She stared a moment at the pendant that he wore, then her gaze lifted to his hair and then his eyes. Her own burned, as if with a deep and abiding anger. "Where did you get that pendant?" she demanded.

Iolaus had been examining her, too. A small thin woman, with wild blond curls that refused to stay pinned back, young, maybe in her mid to late twenties. It was hard to tell. She was pretty, with clear blue eyes, dark now with an anger he didn't understand. Her skin was bronzed by the sun, but glowing with health, not worn or weathered. "It was my father's," he replied, wondering why she looked like someone he should know.

"It really is you, then," she snapped, her jaw tight and fists clenched by her side as if she was controlling herself from tearing into him.

"I'm sorry," he replied, conscious of the stiffening of the men around him. "Have we met?"

She shook her head, tense with anger, as she spat back, "I'm not surprised you don't remember me…you never did give me or the rest of us any thought." Staring at him coldly, she demanded, "Where's the other one, that bastard son of Zeus…from what I've heard, if one of you is around, the other is close by."

Swallowing, wondering at the venom in her voice, feeling a flutter of anxiety as he realized she really did recognize him and knew the odds were he wasn't as alone as he appeared, he tried to bluff his way out of it. "I don't know what you mean. I've traveled with different people over the years."

"Liar," she breathed, her eyes flashing. Shifting her gaze to the tall man who'd come to stand beside him a little too close for comfort, she seethed, "It's Iolaus…my brother."

Startled by her words, his face blank with surprise, Iolaus was only half aware of the scraping of stools and chairs as men came to their feet…but the blade at his throat was a little too obvious to be completely missed. He stiffened, his chin a little up, arms widening slowly to signal surrender and to keep the others calm as he swallowed, his eyes never leaving hers. "Calli?" he murmured, thunderstruck.

"Oh…so you remember me now?" she replied, taking a deep breath to control her anger. "So, where is he? Where's that demigod you trail around after like a loyal hound?"

Iolaus' eyes flicked to the others in the small tavern. "He's gone to visit his brother," he replied, the only lie he could think of at such short notice. He licked his suddenly dry lips. This wasn't good. She didn't seem the least bit glad to see him…far from it. He could feel the tension in the room, the animosity.

Well, he'd found his answer. These guys weren't simple villagers or they'd have been glad to hear Herc was maybe someplace close by. Nor was his sister any kind of hostage…she knew these men. Nope. He'd found the marauders. And, if he was going to be going, it had better be soon.

Tossing the bowl of hot stew up into the face of the tall man holding the knife to his throat, he leaned back, away from the blade as he quickly sidestepped away from it. Startled, the other man cursed, and came after him, but Iolaus drove the sharpened end of the horn spoon in his hand into the man's fist…another new scar to join the others there.

Whirling, he kicked out and leapt onto the bar, racing along it toward the door, as the others charged across the small tavern towards him. He lashed out with his feet, vaguely noticing his sister had stepped back out of the action…glad of it. His emotions were in an uproar, wanting to talk to her, to understand why she'd done this, betrayed him…it was only too clear her identification of him hadn't been motivated by the desire for a fond reunion. But, he had to get away, get back to Hercules and the others…warn them.

He leapt over the arms reaching out for him, landing in a forward roll to carry him closer to the door, shoving it open with his shoulder and whirled back to kick out at the men coming at him. But, he was caught from behind, the men on the porch outside having been alerted to the fight by the shouting had moved to come in to see what it was all about…just in time to stop him from leaving.

Strong fists gripped his arms, and even as he pushed back, intending to try to roll back and over, another fist drove into his gut and then into his face, winding and stunning him. He struggled, and kicked…and then felt something crash down on the back of his head, blinding him with pain, rendering him unconscious before he hit the rough plank floor.

* * *

Telling the others to wait deep in the shelter of the woods, Hercules strode back to the track leading to the village. It was taking too long. Iolaus should have been back by now…it had been hours.

Something had gone wrong.

Not one to worry and wait, Hercules headed up the trail toward the village. As he strode between the first buildings, in shadow now that the sun had crossed behind the mountain, the hackles on the back of his neck rose and he stiffened unconsciously, preparing for attack. It was too quiet. He caught a skitter of sound, a light crunch and sliding of stones, maybe the flash of something or someone at the far end of one of the buildings. He could feel that he was being watched, but looking around, he couldn't spot anyone.

Carrying on, he followed the trail around until it straightened and he could see down into the small square. And froze. Yep, something had gone wrong all right…badly wrong.

Iolaus arms were stretched by chains over his bowed head between the two whipping poles, and he was slumped, as if unconscious. There was a tall, bearded man beside him, and dozens of other men stood around, alert, ready and well armed. There was an archer on the roof of what looked like the tavern, with an arrow cocked and pointed at Iolaus. Looking around, Hercules saw other archers rise, also taking aim on his friend.

Breathing out slowly, he continued down the village lane toward the square, his pace measured and confident, while he wondered how they were going to get out of this mess. Swallowing, he wondered if Iolaus was even alive. There was no way to tell from this distance.

When he came within fifty feet of the village centre, the man beside Iolaus raised a hand, palm out. "That's close enough," the stranger ordered. "You'd be Hercules…we've been expecting you."

"So I see," the demigod responded, looking around at the men and the archers on the rooftops. "I came to get my friend."

The stranger laughed at the audacity, but shook his head. "Well, that's too bad. We've taken rather a liking to Iolaus and plan to keep him for a while."

Hercules kept his breathing steady, fighting the anxiety he felt for Iolaus, keeping focused on the situation, trying to come up with options. There were too many of them…by the time he snapped those chains, arrows would be raining down on them. "What do you want?" he asked, his voice low…dangerous.

"Good, I like a man who comes straight to the point," the stranger replied, grinning. "As you can see, Iolaus is our hostage." The man walked around behind Iolaus and gripping his hair, pulled his head back, at the same time drawing his knife to lay against the warrior's throat. "And I could kill him now, if I chose."

Hercules stiffened and had to fight not to race forward, knowing it would be hopeless…knowing these theatrics were all for his benefit. If they'd planned to kill his friend, Iolaus would already be dead. Not rising to the baiting words, he stood very still, silent…but his eyes blazed with a promise of retribution if Iolaus was hurt.

"But," the village's leader said, withdrawing the blade and letting Iolaus' head fall forward again as he gazed at Hercules meaningfully, "I'd rather ransom him to you."

"How much?" Hercules demanded then, his fists clenching and unclenching unconsciously.

"Well…let's see. He's been a lot of trouble…caused a fight in the tavern. And there'll be his food and upkeep until you bring the necessary funds. Oh…fifty talents of gold should do it," the man drawled, still smiling coldly.

Hercules blew out a breath at the ridiculous sum, almost smiling himself as he looked around at the others. "Where am I supposed to get that kind of money?" he challenged back, knowing they were now in negotiations.

"Oh, you have resources…a brother who is a king, a father who is a god. I'm sure you can manage," his antagonist replied, unconcerned.

"You overestimate the affection in my family," Hercules replied coldly.

"That's too bad," came the icy reply, the smile gone from the man's face as he pulled Iolaus' head back again, and nodded, once.

Before Hercules knew what was happening, before he could react, he heard the 'thwick' of a bowstring and an arrow blossomed from Iolaus' right shoulder.

"NO!" the demigod cried out…lunging forward, only to be halted by the blade that again appeared at his buddy's throat. He'd caught the low grunt when the arrow had hit and suspected Iolaus wasn't as unconscious as he appeared.

"This is not a game, Hercules," the man snarled. "Nor am I someone to be toyed with. I am Seros, and this is my turf. You will pay my price or your friend will die. Is that clear?"

"If you kill him, I promise you that you and this village will be wiped off the face of this earth," Hercules snarled back.

"Perhaps…but he'll be just as dead. Do you need another demonstration…" Seros asked, looking up at the rooftops.

"Wait!" Hercules called out, holding up his own hand. Gritting his teeth, knowing he was beaten for now, he nodded. He might be able to hold off more than a hundred men, and take his own chances, but Iolaus was too vulnerable, chained, with no protection…he'd be killed if Hercules tried anything now, and the demigod knew it. Nor was there any way such a ransom would ever be paid to this villain, but he needed to buy time. "Alright…I'll ask my brother," he conceded, hating the cold smile on the warlord's face, itching to smash his fist into the man for what he was doing to Iolaus. Pausing a moment, staring at Iolaus, he added, "But, I want to verify Iolaus is still alive. For all I know, he may already be dead."

Seros thought about that for a moment, then shrugged, backing up and away from the man hanging slumped by the chains. There was nothing the demigod could do to rescue his friend from a square filled with his warriors and a close examination of the damage already wrought might add a little extra incentive to get the gold. The friendship between these two was legendary…Hercules would never leave a wounded, badly injured Iolaus to linger here for long. "Come ahead then…but try anything and you both die here, and now."

Swallowing, Hercules walked forward as Seros backed away. The square was utterly silent and he could hear the crunch of his boots on the stony ground. When he got closer, he could see the dark bruises on Iolaus' chest that had been hidden by the shadow of his vest. Stopping close in front of Iolaus, he gently lifted his friend's head, cursing softly at the split lip and the bruising of his face. "I'll get you out of here," he murmured.

Iolaus' eyes flickered, and Hercules could see the pain in their depths. "Calli…Calliope…here. Betrayed me," he whispered back. When the demigod frowned, the warrior added, "My sister…here." Iolaus could see the awareness flood his friend's eyes, and Herc's face went almost blank at the news that Iolaus' own family had done this to him…realizing the anguish of that betrayal would be worse than any beating.

Iolaus winced at the pain of the arrow in his shoulder. "The weight of the shaft…pulling. Break it off."

Before anyone could stop him, Hercules had reached for the arrow and his fingers snapped the thin wooden shaft, the tufted end falling to the dust. "I will you get out of this," he repeated.

Iolaus looked up at the archers on the rooftops, glancing sideways at the men who ringed the square, then back at Hercules. He would have shrugged if it had been possible. Taking a breath, he replied, "Just put this lot out of business and I'll consider it a fair bargain."

Hercules wanted to protest the message Iolaus had just given…wanted to shout that he wouldn't let Iolaus die here in this miserable, remote, mountain village. It was in his eyes, in the rigidity of his body, and Iolaus read it as clearly as if there had been words. And, his eyes answered back. He'd gotten himself into this mess, it had been his idea. He didn't expect Hercules to work miracles and this was as hopeless as it ever got…he knew the odds of Hercules getting him out of this were slim to none.

"Enough!" Seros called. "The longer you wait before you bring back the ransom, the longer he'll suffer. It's time you went, Hercules."

His face rigid with hatred as he looked up at Seros, even as his hand gently brushed Iolaus' hair back from his face and gripped the back of his neck and head, Hercules replied, "You'd better take care of him…dress that wound. I'll want him in good condition when I do come back."

But, the warlord shook his head. "No guarantees. The longer it takes, the more time we'll have to amuse ourselves. You'd better hurry, demigod."

"Hang on, Iolaus," Hercules murmured, looking back down at his friend as he gently squeezed the back of his neck. Iolaus gazed at him steadily, then nodded. He'd do his best. "There might be a back way into the village," he whispered, his lips barely moving, the sound meant for Herc's ears only. Hercules blew out a breath, then stepped back and away. Without a backward glance, he strode out of the village and back through the forest to Iphicles' men.

* * *

Seros watched the demigod walk away, then sauntered around the whipping posts to face Iolaus. "I have to admit, you don't look like you'd be worth fifty talents of gold, but there's no accounting for tastes. You'd better hope the King loves you as much as his brother seems to," he said, amused by the lines of pain he could read in his prisoner's face.

"Even if Iphicles will pay, you'll never get a chance to spend it in prison…or Tartarus," Iolaus promised evenly as if the warlord's fate was sealed. He might be chained, battered and wounded, but his spirit was undaunted, and he stared with cool disdain back into his captor's eyes.

Rage boiled through the bully's heart at the insolence, and he ploughed his fist into Iolaus' gut, jerking him hard against the chains that bound him, sending waves of agony through his arms, wound and body. Iolaus gasped then clenched his teeth against the scream that threatened at the fire from his shoulder, dragging in breath, sweat breaking out on his brow. Nausea ripped through him, but he fought it. "You can…beat me, all you like," he grated, "but it won't…change your…fate. You're finished."

"Gods, I hate you," the warlord snarled with contempt. At the surprise that he had shocked into Iolaus' eyes, that a stranger could feel such hate, that this was personal, not just the hazards of war, the villain smiled coldly. "Of course…you don't know, do you? Calli is my wife…she's always hated you, and so have I." He struck out again at the man who was chained and helpless, but Iolaus had gripped the chains with his hands, to better support his weight, and he kicked out suddenly, hard. Seros doubled over at the first kick, the second catching him in the head, driving him to the ground.

It was stupid to resist, and Iolaus knew it. But he hated being used this way, as a hostage over Hercules and Iphicles. They'd beat him whether he fought back or not, he knew that…and he was determined to have some satisfaction of his own before his strength was gone. After attacking Seros, he looked up and around, fully expecting another arrow, ready for it. But nothing happened…until a door slammed and Calli pushed into the square…a whip curled in her hand.

Seros had gotten back onto his feet by the time she reached his side and held out the whip to him. As he took it, she turned to face Iolaus, her face a mask of hatred. "You ran away…deserted us. Cared nothing for us, for anyone but that bastard of Alcmene's. It's time you paid for that…long past time," she raged.

Iolaus shook his head, staggered by the power of her hate, not understanding it. He remembered a cute kid, five years younger than he was…someone he'd loved. Someone he'd taken care of, made sure was fed, when his father was away…someone he'd protected as best he could when his father was home. "I never wanted to hurt you, Calli," he protested. "Gods…I love you."

"Sure you do," she spat back disdainfully. "That's why you left. Why you never came back. The truth is we were nothing to you." Turning to her husband, she urged, "Whip him…show him what happens when he fights back."

Shaking out the whip, snapping it, Seros nodded. Nobody, especially not a chained man, especially not in front of his warriors, kicked him into the dirt. This little runt would learn who was boss here…and he'd enjoy teaching him a lesson the insolent worm would never forget.

Iolaus looked from the whip to his sister's face, his lips parted as he shook his head, unable to believe this was happening…unable to believe how much Calli hated him.

* * *

Hercules skidded to a stop as he rejoined the soldiers. "They have Iolaus," he reported brusquely, his eyes straying to the 'villager' they'd apprehended earlier.

Androcles, the leader of the men who'd come with them, straightened from where he'd been leaning on a tree, his eyes flashing. "How? More to the point, how do we get him back?"

Hercules cast him a quick glance as he moved toward their surly captive. "He didn't know…his sister, Calli, is a part of this somehow. She betrayed him to the others."

The bound man smiled slowly, cruel laughter in his eyes.

"You knew, didn't you?" Hercules demanded, grabbing the man's shirt. "You knew he'd be spotted."

"Not for sure," the villain replied, meeting the demigod's furious gaze. "But…the odds were good. Everyone knows Seros' wife hates your partner."

Something in Hercules snapped then, the fury he'd fought at his helplessness and the abuse Iolaus was suffering breaking out as he backhanded the villain, wiping the smile off his face.

"Wife?" Androcles exclaimed. "Well…that's just great."

Hercules studied the man in his grasp as he said to Androcles, "Iolaus thinks there might be a back way in." And sure enough, the ruffian's eyes slid away from his own.

"Back way? What through solid rock?" one of the soldiers protested. "That village is built on the edge of cliff, with more cliffs behind it. There is no other way in."

"I think there is," Hercules replied quietly, "and while one of you goes for the King's army, the rest of us are going to find it. Show me the place, the rocks, where the horses disappeared…the caves."

* * *

It was cold in the mountains, especially after the sun's warmth had been lost to the shadows. Iolaus hung from his chains, focusing on his breathing to stave off the pain. His vest had been ripped from his back, and his skin scored by the whipping. Only five lashes. Seros hadn't wanted to kill him, not yet anyway.

His head hung down, and shivering, he closed his eyes against the searing burn of agony from his shoulder wound. His arms had long ago gone numb and he worried a bit about them, but when he tried, hissing against the sudden clench of cramps in his fingers, he could still move his hands. His back was also cramped and his ribs ached, the muscles pulling mercilessly against the chains, drawn by gravity toward the earth he couldn't quite touch with his feet.

"My ma says you're a bad man," a young voice piped.

Iolaus winced and opened his eyes to see a boy of maybe nine or ten years standing in front of him, studying him like he was some kind of interesting artifact. Swallowing, he asked, "What's your name?"

"Skouros," the kid replied. "I'm named after my grandfather. He was a great general, you know."

"Yeah," the warrior replied, ironically, "I know. He was my father…I'm your uncle."

"Ma says you were always trouble, always fighting, mouthing off at my grandfather so that he never came home, hardly. She's always telling me to be good…not like you," the child replied, mostly believing his mother, but like all curious children, wanting a second opinion. He'd heard this man call out earlier that he loved his mother…which was odd, because his mother sure hated this guy. "So…were you a bad kid?"

Dazed, fighting the pain, Iolaus studied the boy, seeing Seros' dark hair, but blue eyes the colour of his own. "Sometimes…my father used to hit my mother and I didn't like that. Would you?"

The child studied him thoughtfully as he shook his head. "Ma says you ran off, became a thief."

Iolaus nodded wearily, then winced at the shaft of pain from his shoulder. "Yeah…I did."

"Why?" the child asked.

Iolaus took a couple of breaths to drive back the pain. "My father…my father used to beat me, too. Was going to kill me. I had to leave. I stopped being a thief a long time ago," he replied quietly, thinking he probably shouldn't be telling the kid this stuff…but so far, the child looked like the closest thing he might have to an ally in this hellhole.

The kid thought about that. "Did he beat my mother?" he asked.

"No…no, my father didn't hit my sisters, at least not so long as I was there," Iolaus answered.

"Why'd you come here? Did you want to see Ma?" Skouros asked.

"I didn't know Calli was here," the warrior admitted. "Do you know what your father and the other men here do to make a living?"

Skouros brightened at the question. "My father's a general, too…he leads all the other men here. He's fought in lots of wars, but he came home a while ago, and I heard him say he'd had enough of other men's battles, that it was time to fight his own."

"SKOUROS! Get away from him!" Calli's voice echoed in the darkening square.

"Ah…I was only talking to him," the kid protested, but edged away as commanded.

"Get back in the house," she directed, marching toward them, stiff, angry. The kid looked up at Iolaus a last time then shrugged and headed back to their home on the edge of the square. As he skirted past his mother, just out of reach of a cuff across his shoulder, he thought about the stranger…his uncle. The guy had to be hurting, but he hadn't complained. And, he'd smiled at the end, sort of, and winked, as if he understood mothers who were bossy. Looking back over his shoulder, Skouros thought that Iolaus didn't seem like a bad guy.

"I don't want you talking to him," she hissed as she drew close to her brother.

"He's a good kid…asks good questions," Iolaus observed mildly, doing his best to hide the pain he felt.

"Better than you ever were," she snapped.

Iolaus sighed. "Calli…you weren't even eight yet when I left. You don't know…"

"I know you made mother unhappy…always making her cry. I know you made father mad whenever he came home…because of you, he hardly ever came home. I know you were always fighting with other kids, and that you became a thief…that's what I know," she railed at him.

Iolaus looked away, shaking his head, never having thought about how his younger sisters understood that life they'd shared so many years ago, having to admit that some of what she remembered was only the truth. "Skouros doesn't know his father is a warlord, does he? That his father kills people…even kids like him," he observed, looking back at her…catching a hard slap across the face.

"My husband is no monster…he does what he has to do to provide for this village! He fought in wars, risked his life for this country, for its Kings…for what? He came back to find us half starving. And, he'd had enough. I'll not have you lying to my children about him!" she stormed, furious…but she wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Maybe…maybe he started out to just provide for all of you. But, your man's become a monster, Calli. He's vicious, and brutal. People, too many of them, have died because of him. Do you want that on your conscience? Well, do you?" he persisted.

"You came here to hunt him," she whispered, finally realizing why Iolaus had wandered into this remote village after so many years of never having seen him.

Iolaus looked away, his face closed. Sighing, he looked back at her, a strange tenderness in his eyes, given what she'd had done to him. "You don't believe it, but I do love you, Calli. I never wanted to leave you and the others…but I had no choice. I'm sorry if I hurt you. If you let me…I could help you and your children."

"You?" she mocked, regarding the chains that bound him. "You can't even help yourself."

With that, she turned and walked away.

* * *

Later that evening, as she was tucking her children into bed, Skouros gazed at her somberly. "He said Grandfather beat him, Ma…was going to kill him. That's why he ran away, he said."

"Enough," she scolded. "I don't want you talking to him."

"But…why did Grandfather beat him?" Skouros persisted. "I'm bad sometimes…but you don't beat me. I've heard you say that people who beat their kids should be horsewhipped."

She turned away at the question, fragments of memory swimming in her mind of a small boy being whipped by his father and she frowned, closing her eyes. She bent to tuck in her daughter, Penelope, a six year old with wild blond curls and chocolate brown eyes that now gazed up at her, wide and a little afraid. "If we were really bad…would you or Pa beat us?" she whispered.

"No! No, we'd never hurt you, Pen…such nonsense!" Calli reassured her, furious with her brother for having said things that frightened her children. "Both of you…go to sleep."

But, as she lingered a moment outside their room, she heard Skouros ask Pen, "If Pa did beat me…and I had to run away…would you hate me like Ma hates him?"

"No…no, I promise I'd never hate you," the little girl whispered back. "And I'd never have you whipped!"

Swallowing hard against the lump in her throat, Calli leaned against the wall, remembering…remembering a boy she'd worshipped as a child. Her older brother, who could do anything. Hunt for their food, push away bullies, tickle them until they laughed…teasing…bright blue eyes that had lit up her world. But, he'd left her, had never said good-bye, had never come home. At first, she'd been lost, heart-broken. And then she'd gotten angry, deciding he'd never loved her or their sister. That it had all been a lie and he couldn't be trusted. She'd cauterized the gaping wound of abandonment with the fire of hate.

But, the words of her children made her think. Not as the child she'd been, hurt and afraid, but as the adult she was now. Iolaus hadn't been much older than Skouros when he'd run away. Had she been wrong?

For all these years, had she been that wrong?

Returning to the kitchen, she moved to the window to close the shutters, seeing again the man hanging from the whipping posts in the darkness. They'd given him no food, no water. Hadn't cared for his wound. 'I love you,' he'd said, his eyes clear, sincere…hurt by her rage and hate. 'Your man's a monster,' his words echoed as she closed the wooden shutters against the bitterly cold night and turned to face her husband who was sitting by the fire, studying a map. She'd married a man like her father…a strong man who could protect and provide for her and whatever children they might have. Brave. A soldier. When she'd protested his plan to become a warlord, he'd teased her out of it, saying he was just making himself a King, and as a King, he'd collect taxes…what could be wrong with that? Kings did that all the time.

Studying him now, she felt ill. Was Iolaus right? Had her husband become a monster? She wasn't a fool, but she'd allowed herself to be blind. They had been half-starved when Seros had returned from the last campaign. She'd been terrified for her children, wondering how they could live with nothing but the rock of these cold mountains to sustain them. So, she'd looked away, glad of the silver and gold…glad to feel her own family was safe.

But now? Had Iolaus come here to hunt Seros and his men? She felt fear grip her heart…what would they do if Seros was captured or killed? How would they survive?

But, how could she continue to live with a man who murdered others for gain?

* * *

Hercules and the soldiers, along with their own prisoner, had reached the shale of rock about an hour after the sun had set. Though he didn't want to stop, he knew there was no point in searching in the dark. He looked up at the black ridge of rock that loomed against the night sky, the ridge that now lay between them and the village. He again pictured Iolaus hanging in that damned square…the arrow hitting him, and winced, nausea and anger roiling within him. Crossing his arms, he looked down at the ground, hating this feeling of helplessness, wanting only to storm in there and bring Iolaus out. But that was the fastest way to get his buddy killed.

Again, his eyes raked the shadowed mountainside. Iolaus thought there was another way in. Hercules had no idea what made Iolaus believe that, but his partner must have had some reason. It made sense. No warlord left himself trapped, with no way of escape. There had to be a way through the mountain!

The soldiers had made a cold camp, not wanting the light of a fire to give their position away, and were sharing out bread, pickles and cold meat. They called to Hercules, offering him a share, but he shook his head. He wasn't hungry. Couldn't even begin to think about eating just then.

The soldiers watched the demigod, standing so rigid and silent, looking toward the high ridge, and then they turned to look speculatively at their prisoner, wondering how long it would be before Hercules' patience would snap and his fear for his partner would overcome his decent nature. "Wouldn't want to be in your boots," one of them muttered to the villain. "He'll try on his own for a while, but if he don't find that passage, he'll be wanting you to show him the way."

The prisoner just looked away. He was surprised the demigod hadn't already tried to beat the information out of him. Sighing heavily, he wasn't looking forward to the inevitable. The problem was, he couldn't spill the information even if he'd wanted to. Seros always made the men, most of them anyway, all but the ones he trusted completely, always made them blindfold themselves while their horses were led up the mountain side to the hidden opening to the caves that honeycombed the rock. There were only a handful of people who knew the passages and he wasn't one of them.

* * *

There was no food the next morning, or water either. Just another whipping…ten lashes this time. Iolaus had gritted his teeth, bitten through his lip in an effort not to cry out, but it was too much. Weak from loss of blood and the cold, the pain in his shoulder exquisite, the bite of the lashes, one after another, not knowing when they'd end, broke through his threshold of endurance, and he cried out. It was a terrible, guttural cry, wrenched from him by the razor sharpness of the whip tearing through skin and muscle.

Pen jumped at the sound, dropping the doll she'd been playing with on the kitchen floor. Turning tear-filled eyes up at her mother, she whimpered, "Why is Pa hurting him again, Momma? He's your brother!"

"Shh, baby," Calli soothed her. "Papa needs to punish him…but it'll be over soon."

Calli sent her daughter to the back of the house after the next scream ripped the air, farther away from the terrible sound. Just like her mother had pushed her into the back bedrooms whenever her father had been beating Iolaus, and she'd hidden her head under a pillow so she wouldn't hear him cry. Finally, unable to stand it anymore, she left the house, to ask Seros to stop. But, he'd just finished and was looping the whip to hook onto his belt. She looked around the square, saw her brother hanging limp from the chains. Only the men were about…no women, no children. They were all staying out of the way, afraid of what they were seeing done in their village. Not wanting to face what their men had become.

She picked up a dipper hanging on the barrel by the door and filled it, then turned to walk toward her brother.

"Leave him!" Seros ordered her, not pleased.

"He'll be no good as a hostage if he's dead," she replied, keeping her voice steady, matter-of-fact.

Rolling his eyes, the warlord shrugged and turned away. What did he care if she roused the man? In fact, he smiled coldly to himself, it would only mean he'd be aware of the pain which the darkness hid from him. So, fine, let her give him water if she wanted.

When she reached Iolaus, she gripped his sweat-matted hair and gently lifted his head, holding the dipper up to his lips. His body, desperate for the moisture, swallowed convulsively and he moaned as he regained consciousness. His face was flushed with fever, his eyes glazed with pain.

"Drink," she commanded, softly. Gladly, he complied, until he choked a bit on the water, and coughed harshly. "Easy," she murmured, waiting until he got his breath.

"Thanks," he muttered weakly, panting. She glanced at the wound, saw it had become red and angry looking, pus beginning to ooze out from the swelling around the arrow's broken shaft. She waited for him to plead with her for help, or to condemn her for what was being done to him. But he said nothing. Just looked at her with sorrow in his eyes. And, then, he surprised her when he whispered, "I'm sorry…that the children …have to see this."

Wordlessly, she turned away. By the time she'd reached her door, she heard some of her husband's men laughing, making bets as if they were holding a contest…and she heard rocks thud into her brother's defenceless body, heard him cry out once. She couldn't look, couldn't watch. Pushing open the door to their home, she rushed inside, slamming it behind her. Then stopped. What was she going to do? Run to her room and put a pillow over her head? Looking up, she saw Skouros standing there, staring at her and she had to turn away from the look of condemnation in his eyes.

The children had always been protected from the brutality that went on beyond the boundaries of the village. They only knew their fathers were soldiers. But, brave soldiers didn't beat a chained and wounded man. Didn't whip him, or stone him when he was helpless. And, even here, in the mountains, they'd heard about the bravery of Hercules. If this man was the hero's friend, could he deserve such abuse? Or, was it wrong? Clearly, Skouros had made up his own mind. It was wrong…and he was learning to fear his father and to have contempt for her.

Even the children knew this was wrong!

"Stay here, inside," she ordered Skouros, untying her apron and leaving it on her worktable. "Watch Pen, make sure she doesn't wander outside. I'll be back soon."

"Where are you going?" Skouros demanded, watching her.

"I don't know…I just need some air, some time to think. I'm going for a walk," she replied, heading down the hall to the door in the back that led out into an alley along the cliff-face.

* * *

They'd searched the whole morning, trying out innumerable caves that came to nothing, examining the scree for marks blazed by hooves wearing iron shoes. The searchers stiffened at the loud pounding of hooves from the slopes below, still screened by forest, and then Iphicles and his cavalry broke through, flags waving in the wind. Hercules turned back from the search and loped down the steep slope to meet his brother, sliding a little on the loose stone beneath his boots.

"Hercules!" Iphicles called out as he drew up his mount to look down at his brother, "my man said they'd taken Iolaus!"

"Yesterday…he tried going in on his own to scout," Hercules explained, dragging a hand through his hair. "When he was late getting back, I went to find him. We didn't know his younger sister was in the village. She recognized him. Iph…she's Seros' wife."

"Damn," cursed the King softly, as his eyes scanned the slopes ahead. "You haven't found the back way in yet?"

When Hercules shook his head, the King slipped down from his mount. "You have a prisoner, I understand," he observed quietly.

"Yeah, but he's not doing any talking," Hercules replied, frustrated, worried. Iolaus had taken worse than a simple beating in the past, worse than a shoulder wound, but the more time that passed, the more anxious he became. He'd seen enough of Seros' ruthlessness to know Iolaus was in deadly danger. He was very close to shaking the information out of the villager who was pretending he'd forgotten how to speak. If Iolaus died because he'd hesitated to use the kind of brutality the two of them had always stood against, he'd never forgive himself and he knew it.

Iphicles gazed at his brother, then sighed and shook his head. "Sometimes the two of you are too damned noble for your own good. Bring him. We'll find out how to find this so-called back way, if it exists at all," he said harshly as he slapped his gloves against his palm.

"Torture?" Hercules asked, knowing the answer, hating the fact that he wouldn't stop it.

"If he forces the issue…yes," Iphicles replied coldly as he strode ahead, waving at his men to follow.

When their prisoner saw them coming, and saw the cold look of rage on the King's face, the implacable glare in the demigod's eyes, he knew his time had run out. "I don't know anything," he said in a rush, his voice, high, afraid. "Seros never let us know the route…I swear! I don't know anything!"

The King's eyes were hard as he signaled to his men to begin their form of interrogation. "We'll see if that's true," he replied quietly, turning away.

Just then, a shout came from above. Looking up, they saw Androcles waving at them…and by his side was a slight, blond woman.

* * *

When Calli looked down at the five hundred mounted horsemen, she quailed. 'By the gods, what am I doing?' she thought, stunned. 'Betraying my husband…and all the others? How can I do this?' But, the echoes of those terrible screams filled her mind again…and the sickening sound of the rocks thudding against Iolaus' body. She hadn't thought when she'd named her brother the day before, fired only by rage and spite. Had still been driven by fury when she'd seen her brother kick her husband and brought out the whip.

But…now she just felt confused. She'd never seen the brutal side of her husband or the other men before. Oh, she knew they were hard, that they had killed. They were soldiers. But, she wondered when they'd learned to like it. She'd loved Seros, thought she still did. But, now she was also afraid of him. Afraid of what he'd become.

Hercules and Iphicles climbed the steep, rock crusted side of the mountain until they'd reached Androcles and the woman. Hercules had been studying her on the way up, trying to find something familiar in her features. The hair and the eyes. He couldn't see the child she'd been, but he could see a resemblance to Iolaus.

"Calli?" he asked as he came up to her. "You are Calli, aren't you?"

Numbly, she nodded, looking from him to the King. Pale and trembling, she didn't know what to do. She'd expected to have to circle around and find Hercules in the forest below the village…not an army practically on the back doorstep.

"You've come to help?" Hercules continued, glancing from her to Iphicles.

"I…don't…" she stammered, wringing her hands.

Hercules took her tightly by the shoulders, forcing her to look up at him. "Iolaus said you betrayed him," he stated coldly, anger flashing in his eyes. For all he knew, she'd been trying to sneak out to bring more help back to the village.

It was the wrong thing to have said. Remembered fury flashed in her eyes as she defended what she'd done. "He abandoned us, all of us…without a thought! Why should I care about him?"

"Abandoned you? When?" the demigod demanded.

"He ran away from home…left us. Didn't care a fig about any of us," she stormed.

Disbelief blossomed in Hercules' eyes, and then anger. He knew enough about what had happened when Iolaus had run away from home to know his friend had had little choice. Letting her go, lest he shake her too hard, Hercules shouted at her, "Skouros was going to kill him! What was Iolaus supposed to do? He was a kid, dammit! Would you have hated him less if he'd stayed and died?"

"What would you know about it?" she demanded. "You…all he ever cared about was you! He was a ruffian, always baiting our father…how would you know what happened in our home?"

"I saw Skouros beat him half to death," Hercules seethed, the memory of that long ago horror etched in his mind. "Where were you? I know you were just a kid, but you had to have seen what was going on. Iolaus left because he had no choice, ran away because he had no where safe to go."

"I…" she began, wanting to fight back, but old memories pushed through…bruises and broken arms, beatings and whippings of a large man against a son he seemed to despise. Tears filled her eyes as she turned away. "Iolaus left us…just left. I never knew why. I thought he hated us. So…I learned to hate him," she cried. She'd only been seven years old when her much loved brother had disappeared, leaving her feeling bereft, lost…abandoned. She'd never forgiven him for doing that…wasn't sure she ever could.

"Well…you're wrong. He didn't want to go. Gods, don't you know what a great man he's become, how many people he's helped…and you've let him be beaten and chained…wounded by an arrow. You can't let this go on…show us the way into the village!" Hercules demanded. Iphicles had cut him a hard look at the news of the arrow wound. He hadn't known about that.

Trembling, she looked up at him through her tears. "You'll kill my husband," she whispered.

"Not if we don't have to," he replied steadily, holding her eyes with his own..

Looking from Hercules to the King and back, she hesitated…and thought of what Iolaus had said. "Iolaus said my husband has killed innocent people…" she murmured.

"I'm sorry to tell you that's the truth," Iphicles responded. "Show us the way in."

Finally, she nodded, her shoulders slumped in defeat. Iphicles turned and directed half his force back around the cliffs, to attack the village in three hours, just at sunset. He hoped the distraction from the expected direction would let the rest of them take the village defenders by surprise.

Turning, she led them higher, along a narrow ledge and around a boulder…and through a narrow fissure all but hidden from sight, into dark passageways, flickering torches widely spaced along the wall that she'd lit on her way through. Silently, Hercules, Iphicles and the remainder of the King's forces followed behind, the only sound the clip of the horses' hooves against the stone and the jangle of their bridles.

* * *

Seros had lookouts posted on the roofs of the buildings on the edge of the village, and had rigged barricades to slow any assault. While he hoped for the ransom, it didn't hurt to be prepared for attack. But, if an attack came, his hostage would die. Archers were placed strategically on the rooflines around the square, relieved every three hours so that they'd stay fresh and alert. He also had a sentry posted on the entry into the caverns, but no one expected trouble to come from that direction. Himself, well, he'd taken himself to the tavern, not caring to face his wife just then, and angry at the look he'd seen in his children's eyes earlier that day. They didn't understand. He'd been forced to lawlessness. Would they all rather have starved? If the King did pay the ransom, he'd never have to raid another village and everyone could live happily ever after.

So, he didn't know his wife had gone for a walk…and the lazy sentry hadn't seen her slip past.

Iolaus hung limply from his chains, bloody and battered…lost in fever and pain induced delirium, oblivious to the world around him.

* * *

She held up a hand as they came close to the village end of the rocky passage. It had taken a little more than an hour to pass through the winding tunnels that cut through the mountain. "There's a single sentry at this end of the village," she murmured, chilled by the dampness of the caves…and by her betrayal of her husband.

Iphicles studied her thoughtfully. He'd been wondering all the way whether she was leading them into a trap. He didn't like it. The fissure was so narrow, they'd have to leave in single file, easy prey for anyone waiting for them at the far end.

Hercules was wondering the same thing. There was no real reason to trust her, and all kinds of reasons not to. Turning to his brother, he said quietly, "I'm going on ahead. I'll take out the sentry. If it's clear, maybe some of us can sneak into the village, be ready when the other attack starts."

Nodding, the King agreed with the idea of a reconnaissance. "Be careful," he replied gripping his brother's shoulder.

Hercules nodded, moved ahead a little, then turned to Calli. "Wait here," he directed.

Stealthily, he approached the end of the passage, and he could see the guard facing away from him. Moving up quietly, he tapped the man on the shoulder, and when the startled guard turned around, slugged him, knocking him out cold and catching him to lower the man silently to ground just inside the passageway. Stepping out, he cast a quick look around and was satisfied there was no ambush. Loping back down the dark tunnel, he waved Iphicles forward.

When his brother and Calli joined him, he explained, "I have to get closer to Iolaus. They have him bound in chains in the square…once the battle starts, they're likely to try to kill him."

"You could come with me," Calli suggested. "My house opens onto the square…it's as close as you're likely to be able to get."

Nodding, Hercules gestured for her to lead the way.

* * *

When Calli let herself and Hercules quietly into the house by the back door, they found two wide-eyed children waiting for her. The little girl flinched back at the sight of the huge man who loomed over her mother. "It's okay," her brother assured her, putting an arm around her shoulders. "It's just Hercules. He's here to help Uncle Iolaus."

When the demigod looked from the children to Calli, the question in his eyes, she replied quietly, "They've never seen a man beaten before…and didn't like it much. They…didn't think Iolaus deserved it. Not if his only crime was running away from such beatings when he was a child."

Hercules knelt down to face them, more at their eye level. "Thank you," he said, giving them a half-smile. "You were right…Iolaus is a good man. Someone you can be proud to have as an uncle. He helps people. He doesn't hurt them."

"Well…they've hurt him pretty bad," Skouros observed, his face white and pinched. "I'm scared for him. What's going to happen?"

Hercules looked away, wishing there was an easier way to explain all this to children, wondering if he could trust them that far and decided he couldn't. It was their father who was the quarry and he didn't want to confuse them with divided loyalties. "It's a little complicated to explain, but I'm here to help Iolaus."

"You'll never get to him," the observant child replied. "Pa has archers on the roofs and their bows are pointed at him."

Hercules frowned and stood, moving to the front of the house, standing to the side of a window and peering out, checking the rooflines. Then, he shifted so that he could see Iolaus and his heart caught. "By the gods," he gasped. "What have they done to him?"

Calli and the children had followed him into the kitchen. "Whipped him," she replied tonelessly.

"And stoned him," Skouros added with a look of disgust. "I didn't know what to do…my Pa just watched." Swallowing, the boy looked away. "Pa was laughing…."

Hercules stiffened, then scanned the kitchen and the open living area beyond. "Does Seros have a shield?" he asked, not seeing one. He needed something to provide cover…one look at Iolaus had been enough to let him know his buddy wasn't going to be able to walk away from there, let alone run or fight.

"Yes," Calli offered. "In the storeroom in the back."

"Get it," Hercules ordered. "I'll need to shield Iolaus from the arrows while I break the chains."

When Calli brought him the shield, he accepted with a tight, 'thanks', then turned back to watch the street. Waiting until the attack started would be too late. Moving out too soon, before the men of the town were occupied with the attack, would be equally dangerous. His timing would have to be just right.

As he watched, he murmured, "I don't see any women or children around."

"No," Calli agreed. "None of us wanted our children to see…what they were doing in the square. None of us really understood, until now, what our men had become."

At the haunted, strained tone in her voice, Hercules looked back at her. "I'm sorry," he offered quietly.

Her eyes filled with tears as she tried to explain. "They'd been gone so long…at the wars. Trying to earn a wage. There's nothing here, nothing to live on. There used to be silver in the mountain, for mining, but it petered out more than five years ago. When they came back, about a month ago…we were almost starving. They were furious…fighting for Greece while their families were dying at home. So…they went out again, to make a different kind of war. Don't you understand? We were afraid. We didn't know what else to do."

Hercules looked away, at the two children who were still too thin, and he sighed. "There are other ways. Other places to live. Other choices. Seros and the others were wrong to do what they did," he replied, looking back at her.

"Is my Poppa a bad man?" whimpered Pen, not really understanding but frightened by her father's actions in the last two days.

Swallowing, Hercules shook his head. "I don't know. He's a desperate man…and he's done bad things."

Lifting the shield, judging that he dared not wait longer, he turned to the door. "All of you, no matter what happens, stay here inside, where it's safe."

Calli put her arms around her children and nodded, her eyes dark with fear.

* * *

Hercules stood in the shadow of the door's awning for a moment. He could see two of the archers and figured there must be a couple more he couldn't spot from this angle. Slipping the sheath of the shield over his left arm, he took a breath then bolted for the whipping posts, only about thirty feet away. He heard a shout, and lunged forward, bringing the shield up and around, narrowly blocking one arrow and then another as he whipped around and caught a third, swearing when a fourth scored a deep red line across his upper arm. He could hear shouting in earnest now, as Iphicles' men attacked from the trail below.

Reaching up, sheltering Iolaus with his own body, he ripped one chain from its bolt in the post and then grabbed for the other, grunting as he felt an arrow bury itself in his back but he ignored the sudden burst of pain. He lowered Iolaus to the ground, then turned to cover them both as best he could, knowing he couldn't carry Iolaus away without leaving them both wide open to attack from all sides. He could scarcely take the time to check out his best friend's condition beyond having noted the wounds from the whip, the bruising from the blows by fists, feet and rocks, the waves of heat radiating from his body…he heard his buddy breathing, albeit rough and shallow. It was enough…Iolaus was alive and now his only job was to keep him that way.

By that point, men were pouring out of the tavern, while Iphicles and the men who'd followed them through the mountain attacked from within the village itself, causing chaos. Angry shouts filled the air, then one archer screamed as he plummeted to the ground, followed shortly by another. Iph's men had spotted them, and the danger they'd posed to Hercules and had taken quick action. In moments, the rooftops were clear.

Cursing at the ambush, Seros pulled his blade from his belt and advanced on Hercules, the author of this disaster. The demigod pushed himself to his feet, trying to ignore the searing pain that radiated from his back and right shoulder. He'd tried to get at the arrow, but it was just out of his reach and he couldn't pull it out. He eased his left arm out of the shield, knowing he'd need the full use of it given his right arm was fast going numb.

"Give it up, Seros…you're beaten," Hercules called. "Surrender now and you don't all have to die."

The warlord knew what surrender meant. Years in prison or a mine somewhere…he'd rather be dead. Circling closer, he glanced down at Iolaus, who lay still and gray in the dust at Hercules' feet. "Is he still alive?" he asked, knowing that even the question would distract the demigod.

Though he'd barely had time to check, Hercules knew Iolaus was still breathing…but the damage to his partner looked bad. "No thanks to you," he snarled, watching Seros while the battle raged around them.

"Too bad," the warlord replied, then darted in. Hercules twisted away, bringing his fist down hard on Seros' knife arm, while he elbowed back into the man's chest, driving him away. The knife pitched to the ground, but Seros charged back in, head lowered to take Hercules in the gut. Off balance, the demigod lurched backward, but dove forward when the warlord went for the blade, kicking it out of the way, and swinging a roundhouse punch into the man's jaw, sending him flying.

Iphicles appeared at that moment, and grabbed Seros, thrusting him back at two of his men, to be bound. The battle was sharp, but short, the soldiers overwhelming the mercenaries as, better armed, with surprise on their side, they'd made short work of the villains.

Panting, Hercules swayed for a moment, then sank down on his knee beside Iolaus, reaching out to touch his friend's fevered face…and then he pitched forward, unconscious.

"Hercules!" Iphicles shouted, racing forward and falling to his knees beside his brother, appalled to see the arrow sticking out of the demigod's back. Turning, he yelled, "Bring the healer!" Then he turned to look down at Iolaus, and his breath caught. The blond warrior was radiating heat from his fever, lying curled on his side. Iphicles could see the oozing cuts of the lash, the blood and bruises from the beatings and the stoning on Iolaus' face and body. "By the gods," he whispered, closing his eyes, wondering about injuries inside, the ones he couldn't see.

He'd sent them on a simple mission, had warned them of the ruthlessness of this band of marauders…but it was his responsibility that they were here. Breathing heavily, his eyes burning, he felt guilt and grief…and a desperate fear that cost of this mission was going to be much more than he'd ever thought to pay.

* * *

When Hercules woke, he felt dazed, confused. He could hear a woman wailing out her grief in the distance, and he winced as he moved, pain stabbing through his shoulder and back to his chest.

"Easy," Iphicles murmured, laying a hand on his brother's shoulder to restrain him lightly. "You need to rest."

The demigod's eyes raked the room, but he didn't recognize it. Gradually, awareness seeped back and fear clouded his eyes as he turned back to his brother. "Iolaus?"

"Is being taken care of," the King assured him.

"I want to see him," Hercules insisted, pushing himself up, biting his lip at the pain that shot through him, but determined to ensure Iolaus was being cared for properly...desperate to see that he was going to be all right.

Knowing it was futile to try to stop his brother, Iphicles bent to help him sit, and then stand unsteadily. Hercules was scarcely aware that his chest was bare, or of the bandage that circled his shoulder and chest. "Where is he?" the demigod demanded.

"Just in the next room," Iphicles replied. "Let me help you."

Leaning on his brother's shoulder, Hercules tried to remain calm. "How badly is he hurt?" he asked, afraid of the answer.

"The wound in his shoulder was badly infected and had to be cleaned out, his back…well, infection had started there, too, and the wounds have been treated and bandaged…looked like fifteen or twenty lashes. A couple of ribs seem to have been broken. The healer is afraid he might have pneumonia, from the infection and from being left hanging in the cold all night...his breathing isn't good…and his fever is out of control. He hasn't regained consciousness…might be the infection…might be the result of the blows he took to the head," Iphicles replied his voice grim, wishing he had better news.

As they made their way from one room to the other, the demigod asked, "How long was I out?"

"Since last night. Your own wound was serious, Hercules…but I think you'll live," Iph observed dryly.

The demigod just grunted at that, then froze for a moment when they entered Iolaus' room. His friend was lying on a narrow cot under a window, his body livid with fever and his breathing ragged. Calli sat with him and turned, her eyes reddened from crying, when they entered.

"How is he?" Hercules murmured, again moving forward, faster now, wanting to touch Iolaus…see how bad the fever was, check to see the wounds were treated properly.

She stood away from the bed, shaking her head with guilt and sorrow. "I don't know…we can't get the fever down…and he won't wake up."

Sinking into the chair beside the bed, Hercules reached out with his left hand and laid it on Iolaus' chest, frowning at the heat of the fever. "I need cold water, and cloths…we need to keep bathing him until the fever breaks."

"We've been doing that, Hercules," Iphicles assured him. "It's not helping."

"Well then, we keep doing it!" the demigod snapped. "Get me the water."

Calli nodded and left as Iphicles stayed by his brother, one hand on his shoulder. "We've also been giving him herbal tea, forcing it into him. It's a bad infection, and had time to spread in his body…but he's strong, Hercules…he's fighting back," he tried to reassure his brother.

The demigod had leaned forward, biting back his own stab of pain, as he reached to explore Iolaus' injuries, finding the lumps on his head, lightly touching his face to see if there were broken bones under the ugly bruises, then he checked the wound, frowning to see it was still livid and angry. Iolaus' body was swathed in bandages, both to cover his back and to give his damaged ribs support.

"I shouldn't have let him come into the village alone," the demigod murmured to himself. "Should never have left him here. Dammit!"

"You couldn't know they'd identify him so quickly…and Calli has explained about the archers. You could never have gotten him out on your own. Not against more than a hundred men," Iphicles reasoned with him, or tried to. "None of this is your fault. It's…just bad luck." At least, he's tried to convince himself of that, to deal with his own guilt for having asked them to come here, to find out if the village was a stronghold or not.

Sighing, Hercules just echoed, "Yeah…bad luck." But then, he turned to look up at his brother, understanding the overtone of guilt he'd heard. "This wasn't your fault either."

Calli returned with the basin of cool water and more rags. She wanted to bathe her brother, as she'd been doing all through the night, but Hercules wouldn't relinquish the task. He worked over his friend, with an almost trembling gentleness, until his own weakness overcame him and he had to sit back, letting Calli take over. Iphicles wanted to move him back to his own room, but he refused to go. So, Iphicles finally had Hercules' cot moved into Iolaus' room, and then he was finally able to get his stubborn brother to lie down.

* * *

Hercules would only rest for short periods, and only when his body gave him no other choice. Iphicles worried about him, but knew that the demigod couldn't be restrained and was probably better off doing what he could for Iolaus than just lying there, feeling helpless and scared that his partner wasn't going to get better.

Calli brought endless basins of cool water, pot after pot of herbal tea, rags and herbs for fresh dressings, poultices to draw out the poison, pitchers of water as the hours and then the days passed. She was silent, feeling the anger of the demigod whenever she came into the room. Anger directed toward her for having been the one to betray Iolaus…her actions having led to this. She despised herself…for everything. For what had happened to her brother. For her vicious, misplaced anger and hatred. For having betrayed her husband, who'd been hauled with the other survivors to prison. The look in Seros' eyes when he realized what she had done had been terrible, and haunted her waking moments and dreams.

Iphicles would have liked to have moved them back to Corinth, where it would be easier to care for both Hercules and Iolaus, but the healer counseled him not to move the seriously ill man…that he needed rest more than movement, that transport would only aggravate his injuries. The only relief the King felt was in seeing that Hercules got stronger as the time passed, his godly heritage once again ensuring that he healed quickly.

The children wandered in from time to time, silent as little wraiths, wretched with worry about their father, and about their uncle. The adults all tried to reassure them, but they'd only stare at Iolaus hoping he'd get better…scared that he wouldn't. They'd not known death in their young lives and though they hadn't known their uncle, not really, scarcely at all, the stories the King told them, the things they heard Hercules say about his friend…and even their mother's memories of the boy she remembered and loved, all made him very real to them.

Iphicles had refused to go back to his court until he knew if Iolaus was going to recover or not. He could not bring himself to leave while the threat of death still hovered in that little house…he told himself it was because Hercules would need him. But, he knew in his heart that he, too, loved Iolaus and was not prepared to abandon him, not like this, not now. He was also angry with Calli, but recognized it was only an excuse to shove some of the guilt he felt onto another soul. He tried to ease her pain, finally, by sharing some of his own past resentments, to help her see that to be hurt as a child, and to feel that hurt even as an adult was only human…and that humans make mistakes they can only regret and correct as time allows, but she seemed inconsolable.

When he wasn't in the house, doing what he could, waiting and watching, Iphicles roamed the village, trying to reassure the women they need not fear for themselves or their children. They were his people and he would see they were cared for…if they'd petitioned for help sooner, perhaps none of this horror would have had to have occurred. He pledged himself and his crown to seeing them settled in other communities, where they'd have the chance for a better, safer, life. Though it couldn't take away the pain of having lost their husbands to death or to prison, he at least alleviated their worries for the welfare of their children.

* * *

It had been three days, and still Iolaus had not regained consciousness. Hercules and Iphicles took turns bathing the warrior, fighting the fever that leeched more and more of his strength away. They propped pillows behind him, and often had to pull him up into their arms to help him breathe during coughing spasms when he began to choke on his own phlegm.

Hercules was feeling more and more distraught until one day, when Iolaus had gone almost blue from lack of air, and he'd wondered if his buddy would ever drawn breath again, he'd stood after the crisis was over, and threw a clay mug against the wall, shattering it.

"This wasn't supposed to happen!" he raged, eyes reddened with tears he wouldn't let fall. "It was a simple mission, straightforward! This shouldn't have happened!"

"Hercules!" Iphicles intervened, taking his arm, "this isn't helping. You can't lose it, not now."

Whirling on his brother, the demigod seethed, "His damned family…all they've ever done is hurt him! Why? What did he ever do to deserve such contempt and cruelty? Such hate? Gods, Iph…when he was a kid, he missed school all the time to hunt for them, to make sure they were fed…even when he was only six or seven years old! And then he had to put up with jibes at school, because he was always behind, always being told he was stupid or lazy. He stood between his drunken father and his mother, to stop her from being beaten, taking the blows himself…and the first time his father went after one of the girls, he threatened to kill Skouros if he ever touched them. The threat must have been really been something, because Skouros never did. Finally, and only to save his life, when it was too much and his father was going to kill him, did he leave…and he didn't have anywhere to go. I don't know why he didn't come to us, but mother always believed it was to protect her, me…I don't know. Iolaus has never said. He could have died on the streets, driven there by a father who should have been caring for him! And now this! The sister he fed and protected did this to him! He didn't deserve it, not any of it…and now, he might…he might…"

Hercules looked away, choking on the word, furious and helpless and very afraid. The King moved to put his arms around his stricken brother, pulling him into a tight hug, offering the only comfort and support he could. The demigod resisted for a moment, then slumped into his brother's embrace, finally allowing his tears to fall. Looking up, past Hercules' shoulder, Iph saw Calli standing in the doorway. Pale and trembling, tears on her own cheeks. Wordlessly, she turned and disappeared down the darkened hall.

* * *

When Iphicles found her later, she was sitting in the dark beside the cold hearth, her head bowed, her fists clenched over her thighs. She'd put the children to bed in her own room and had been sitting here since, haunted by Hercules' words and her thoughts.

Quietly, the King knelt by the fireplace and lit a fire, then used a tabor to light some candles. She flinched at the light, turning her white, haggard face away from it. Silently, he sat down across from her, just being with her should she wish to talk about any of it.

The silence stretched as he watched her stare into nothingness. Finally, in a small, lost voice, she said, "Pen is six…I can't imagine her hunting to feed us all. Skouros is nine…and I can't even bear the thought of him standing between me and Seros, being beaten to protect me, to protect Pen. What was my mother doing? Besides crying? How could she allow it all to happen? How could my father…?"

Iphicles sighed as he looked into the fire. Who ever knew why people did what they did? Finally, he offered, "I didn't know your mother well, but I've known women like her…so hurt, so battered and afraid, they could no longer do what was needed to protect anyone else. They loathed themselves, not understanding they were victims. Perhaps, some day, you need to talk to your mother about all this…find out what she was feeling, probably still feels about it all. But…don't blame her. She suffered enough then, no doubt still blames herself enough now. Your father? I knew him even less, but I know he was a much respected, even revered general. Men like him, who lose too many soldiers in battle, become lost as well in guilt and need to release it somewhere safe. Unfortunately, too often, that safe place, their homes and families, bear the brunt of what happened in war. They drink to forget…and when they drink, they lose control. They aren't evil, but what they do is terribly wrong."

"Why didn't Iolaus ever come back? Why…after father died and it was safe again? Why did he leave us believing we never mattered to him…that he didn't care about us? I don't understand…I've never understood," she whispered. "Did he hate us all for what happened?"

Leaning forward, his hands clasped between his knees, Iphicles looked at her solemnly, as he replied, "I know Iolaus well enough to know he isn't a man to carry hate in his soul. He would never have hated you or your sister or your Mother for any of it. I don't think he can even find it in himself to hate your father. Why didn't he ever come home? I don't know…I've never asked him. For all that Iolaus can talk a blue-streak, he's a very private person and I've never wanted to intrude. But…if I had to guess? I'd say he felt guilty for abandoning you, all of you. For not being strong enough to stand up to his father's abuse. For having become a thief and disgracing you. I suspect he just didn't know how to face you…so it was easier to just never go home again."

Wiping the tears from her face, she looked up at the King, as she protested, "But…it wasn't his fault! Why would he feel guilty?"

"It wasn't your fault that you felt abandoned and hurt…angry. You didn't understand, but you had no way of understanding. And, yet, you feel guilty…let it go, Calli…guilt doesn't help. And you were only a little girl," he replied gently.

"I wasn't a little girl in the tavern…or when I took out a whip and told my husband to beat him!" she cried, tears again filling her eyes. "This…" she said, waving toward the room in which her brother lay, fighting for his life, "this is my fault!"

Iphicles swallowed and shook his head. "First, maybe it was the little girl in the tavern, and with the whip. It was the little girl's pain and hate, still fresh as if it had all happened last week, not years ago. You acted without thought…and I can see you very much regret it. But, it happened, and now we all have to deal with that as best we can. When Iolaus wakes up, you'll need to talk with him about it all. And second, in part this may be your fault. But, in part, it's mine for having sent the two of them here. Mostly, it's your husband's fault, if we're going to assign blame…he's the one who acted, who had Iolaus beaten, wounded and chained. Not you. Not me."

Calli covered her face with her hands as she sobbed, "I'm just so…sorry…."

Moving to kneel beside her, Iphicles took her into his arms and rubbed her back soothingly, as if she were but a child. "I know," he sighed quietly. "I know."

* * *

It was just before dawn on the fourth day, and Hercules had been bathing Iolaus hour after hour, laying cool wet cloths on his skin, forcing fluids a sip at a time into his friend, and pulling him up when the coughing got too violent and he was having trouble getting his breath. The demigod was exhausted, from his own wound, from unrelieved anxiety, from going without sleep himself for too long. For days now, Iolaus muttered, and was restless, moaning a bit in pain, and coughing…perpetually coughing…but he never seemed aware of what was going on around him. The prolonged unconsciousness was terrifying and Hercules was beginning to wonder if Iolaus had suffered a more serious head injury than they'd first thought.

Wearily, he gathered up the rags that were now hot again from contact with his buddy's body, and dropped them into the tepid water, soaking them, wringing them out to place them again over Iolaus' burning skin. And again, Iolaus began coughing, harsh, barking sounds, from deep in his chest…and then choking. Hercules pulled him up to rest against his own body…it usually seemed to work, and Iolaus would get his breath. But, this time, it just kept on, the choking, gasping for air, until Hercules became frightened and, though he hated to abuse his best friend's already tender back, he found himself pounding on Iolaus' back, calling to him to 'Breathe!'

There was another bout of violent coughing as Iolaus flinched against him, moaning quite distinctly, "Owww! Hurts…"

Hercules froze, ceased the pounding and just held Iolaus securely, listening to his breathing, which began to ease. "Okay now?" he asked, holding his breath…desperate to hear a response.

"Yeah…" Iolaus murmured softly. "Thanks."

Gingerly, the demigod laid his friend back against the cushions, making him as comfortable as he could. Iolaus looked confused, bleary, but he was definitely awake…finally. "Thirsty?" Hercules asked.

Weakly, his buddy nodded, and Hercules held a mug of cool water to his lips. After a few swallows, Iolaus turned his head away. Taking a deep breath, coughing a little to clear his throat, he turned his eyes to gaze at Hercules, clearly trying to figure out what was going on. "You're in Calli's house…Iph came and we dealt with the bad guys…."

"Calli?" Iolaus repeated, his eyes clouding…Calli hated him. He remembered that.

"Don't worry," Hercules said quickly, reading the look, understanding it. "Everything's all right now. She helped us rescue you."

Iolaus' eyes searched Herc's, then drifted, coming to rest on the bandage around the demigod's shoulder and chest. Frowning, he lifted his eyes again to his friend's. Again, Hercules understood and answered the unspoken question, "I'm alright…nothing serious. Don't worry. I just want you to rest…okay?"

Exhausted, weak, hot from the fever and still in considerable pain, Iolaus thought that sounded like a good idea. His eyes drifting closed again, he muttered, " 'Kay."

The fever finally broke about an hour later, and Hercules sagged back, weak with relief.

The worst was over.

* * *

The mood in the house lightened with immeasurable relief when the others learned Iolaus had wakened and that the fever had broken. Though he still needed considerable care, they could finally believe he was on the road to recovery.

The children played again, laughing out in the main room, and he'd smile in his sleep, hearing them, being relaxed by the sound. He was able to take a little broth that evening, and the coughing eased, no longer choking him, letting him sleep more deeply through the night.

The next day, when he woke, he was more alert…and wanted to know what had happened. His first order of priority was to find out about Hercules' injury. "So, what happened to you?" he asked, his voice still hoarse.

Hercules shrugged, wincing just a little at the pull in his shoulder, as he replied off-handedly, "Just an arrow, in my shoulder…nothing to worry about."

Iolaus rolled his eyes…a typically spartan answer from his Theban friend. But, Skouros, who'd wandered in, in time to hear the question and answer, replied with a little more animation, "Hercules got shot when he was breaking your chains…covering your body when the shield wasn't enough."

Hercules flinched and looked away, not having planned to share that bit of information.

"Really?" Iolaus reflected cutting a quick look at his friend then smiling at Skouros. "What else happened?"

"Well…it was a real battle," the child replied, troubled by the memories of what he'd seen from the kitchen window. "My father…well, he tried to fight Hercules with a knife, but Hercules beat him…and Iphicles had Pa tied up and taken away."

Iolaus' eyes dropped and he sighed, then looked back at his nephew as he said, "I'm really sorry, Skouros. That's hard for you to have seen…to know."

The kid sniffed a little, then took a deep breath, determined to continue on with his story. "After that, well, Hercules fell down beside you…and the King called for a healer and you both had to be carried into the house. Hercules has hardly slept at all…"

"Uh, I think Iolaus gets the picture," the demigod cut in, embarrassed, but the kid just kept talking, "because he was taking care of you all the time."

Again, Iolaus' eyes dropped and he nodded a little as he pictured Hercules sheltering him with his own body...taking an arrow for him…fighting over him and then collapsing…refusing to take care of himself in his concern about his friend. Looking back at Hercules, Iolaus said quietly, "Thanks, buddy. We'll talk about you not taking proper care of yourself later…not to mention playing the part of target during the battle."

Hercules grinned a little as he replied, "I was afraid of that…" Turning to Skouros, he winked, as he said, "You see, Skouros, this is why I don't always tell him everything…he gives me heck for stuff he thinks I shouldn't do."

"Don't you give him heck if he does stuff like that?" Skouros asked, curious.

Iolaus laughed and then coughed, holding his side. "Gotcha!" he grinned at Hercules. "Out of the mouths of babes!"

"Got both of us, I think," Hercules smiled back, shaking his head a little.

Skouros looked up at his uncle, and said shyly, "I'm glad you're all right. We were all really worried about you. And, my ma, well…she feels really sorry…."

The demigod stiffened at those words, but Iolaus just gazed at his nephew as he replied, "Thanks, Skouros. I'm glad to know that."

Drawn by the laughter, encouraged by Iphicles who'd heard it, too, Calli appeared in the doorway, hesitant, not sure she'd be welcome. "Could I…could I talk to you, Iolaus?" she asked, her voice strained.

Hercules half-turned, but couldn't quite bring himself to look at her, still blaming her for Iolaus having been so badly hurt, but the warrior nodded, his face watchful, as he replied, "Sure…Herc, would you…?"

The demigod stood, and motioned Skouros to the door ahead of him, Calli standing back to let him pass, neither of them quite looking at the other. "I'll be close by, if you need me," Hercules said to Iolaus, just before he disappeared from sight.

Calli came in and moved to the chair the demigod had just vacated. Sitting, she looked down at her hands, and realized she was twisting them unconsciously, willfully stilling them as she looked back up into her brother's steady gaze. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "I…shouldn't have…I didn't mean…" But, she faltered, the words caught by the lump in her throat.

Iolaus reached out to lay a hand over hers. "You were angry…you…you hated me. I'm sorry…I never wanted that."

Blinking, she looked away, trying to regain some control. Swallowing hard, she said, her voice rough and low, "I never understood why you just left and never said good-bye…why you never came back, not once. I…I know now why you had to leave…but you never came back."

Iolaus sighed as he looked away, sorrow on his face. "I was wrong," he said. "I should have gone back to see you and 'Dina…and Ma. But…well…I was ashamed. I was a thief and didn't want to tell you that. Then, later, Ma had left, with Pandion…and I didn't know where you'd gone. I'm sorry…I never thought about how confusing it all would have been for you, for all of you. I guess I was just too young to know better…and when I got older, well, I could have looked, but…I was still ashamed."

Calli nodded a little. "Iphicles said that's probably why…" she murmured.

Iolaus looked up, startled, as he replied, "Did he?"

"Uh huh," she sighed, looking at him, as she observed, "I think he understands you pretty well…and he seemed to understand everything…helped me to make sense of it."

Iolaus smiled then. "Good," he said, "I'm glad if he helped."

Swallowing again, not able to hold his eyes, she asked, "Can you…forgive me? They hurt you so badly, you almost died, and well, I…I'm really sorry."

"Hey!" he exclaimed softly, seeing the tears in her eyes, "don't cry! Ah, Calli…there's nothing to forgive, so long as you can forgive me, too. To be honest…I'm just glad I finally found you again…and your kids. They're both great. I know Seros did things that were wrong, terribly wrong…but you've both done a good job with those kids."

She sniffed and took a shuddering breath, wiping her eyes in vain as tears slipped down her cheeks. "I loved him," she whispered. "And…and I betrayed him, too. They've taken him, all of them, to prison."

For him. She'd betrayed her husband to save him. Iolaus had to swallow against the lump in his own throat and blink hard as he pulled on her hand, drawing her onto the bed beside him and then into his arms. Holding her while she cried quietly, he whispered, "Gods, I'm sorry, little one…I'm so sorry you've been hurt so badly. It's hard to be that brave…hard to do the right thing when it hurts so much…I'm sorry."

* * *

A week later, the wagons Iphicles had ordered arrived to move the women and children down to Corinth, where shelter had been arranged for them. Stronger by then, but no means yet able to walk all the way down the mountain, Iolaus ended up driving one of the wagons, Skouros on one side of him, Calli with Pen on her knee on his other side on the wagon's seat.

Hercules strode along side, while the King rode with them, his Royal Guard strung out along the trail as escort for the long train of more than fifty wagons.

Iolaus was teasing the two children, and had them both giggling madly at his antics. At the sound that reminded him so much of another child's giggle so long ago, Hercules looked up and caught his friend's bright, open smile at his sister, and hers in return, and he saw that Iphicles had caught it, too. Iphicles glanced over at him, and held his eyes, nodding once before he again turned his attention to the trail.

The demigod looked away, finally forgiving Calli for what she'd done…letting it go in the face of his friend's joy at this reunion with a family Iolaus hadn't known even existed…happy with his sister, and her children. Glancing back at Iphicles, Hercules also acknowledged to himself that, as bad as it had been, this whole thing had brought him closer to his own brother. He was grateful for that, grateful for the strength Iph had given to all of them when it had been so badly needed.

Smiling to himself as he strode along, enjoying the sound of the laughter from the wagon above him, he found himself looking forward to family reunions in the future…now that he felt like he and Iolaus really did have family again.

Finis


End file.
